The Power of Love
by Spess Merhene
Summary: On a lazy summer night, Joe Brown's life is changed forever as his girlfriend dies in his arms. Eight years later, as a hard-drinking chronophysicist, he leaves his 41st Millennium forever to rescue her.
1. Chapter 1

"_There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim darkness of the far future there is only war."_

_But who gives half a penny for the future? Why go forwards when you can go backwards, sideways, diagonal, clockwise or widdershins? _

_I've been to places. Not just places, you see. I've been to _places_. I've seen more than you can possibly comprehend; I've seen sights that would make even your eyes bleed. I've seen the Eldar, I've seen the Tau, and what you call 'ems – Necrons; hell, I've seen the Emperor. I've lived more lives than all of you put together – and I'm still searching for that perfect universe._

_I'm no daemon, your Lordships. Just don't get on the wrong side of me. I'm not the man to cross. The difference between the words 'fiend' and 'friend' are but a single letter. You want to watch it if I'm the Fiend who's coming for you._

_And as to how I know all this?_

_Honestly – you inquisitive Inquisitors aren't inquiring hard enough._

_Because in the grim darkness of the far future – all you need is a ship that can fly at 88 million miles an hour. Cus' that's the power of love right there._

_[A smashing sound]_

_Goodbye, suckers!_

[Audio recording of escaped convict Joe Brown (Suspect 11174RTF), designation _Perditus Irredeemus_. Kill on sight.]

Thought for the day: _Between the stars the ancient unseen enemies of mankind wait and hunger. Every voyage into the nothing is a confrontation with horror, with the most implacable things of the warp, and with man's own innermost fears._

**Alright this is a concept for my new story. Please tell me what you think of it. Oh, and don't worry. This isn't going to replace **_**Lunatic Wolf**_**. That one's the apple of my eye – this story's like my bastard child lol. If you like it, say so and I'll keep going.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Citus334: Thank you for the add! I hope this story continues to interest you.**

_**129.M41**_

_**11**__**th**__** of June, Terran **_

The world of Beta Carrinade was one of many in the God-Emperor's galaxy-spanning Imperium. It was an insignificant speck floating in Ultima Segmentum, overshadowed by great names such as Macragge, Catachan and Valhalla in that vast expanse of space. Beta Carrinade was no military world, boasting only one Imperial Guard regiment and a rather large shipyard. This planet's sole claim to fame was its proximity to Alpha Carrinade, an Adeptus Mechanicus world that shelled out battleships for His Most Glorious Navy.

But, as always, it is the people that make the planet.

The city of Carrin Primus was most obviously the capital of Beta Carrinade, well on its way to becoming a hive city. Already, the rich were relocating their residences to the top of the city, in preparation for that cannibalistic real-estate war that would most assuredly ensue in a few centuries time. Likewise, as criminals are wont to do, the gangs were sinking into the bowels of the nascent hive city – with the occasional foray into the light. Right into the welcoming arms of the local Arbites.

The north of Carrin Primus was the designated corporate sector, crammed with Administratum officials and their minions. West and south were residential districts, with their accompanying Ministorium temples to honour the God-Emperor's divinity. But the east was Adeptus Mechanicus territory. This was where the Techpriests and Magos' of the Martian priesthood venerated their Omnissiah through the sacrificial pyres of the furnaces and the incense of the smokestacks. And this was where an eighteen year old Joe Brown was, on the 11th of June.

He was not an arresting figure. Dusty brown hair, and hazel eyes. Pale skin. Joe stood at about six feet tall, with a skinny frame. Of course, no one could tell through that brown duster he always wore. _Out of sight, and out of mind,_ he would remark if asked. No one looked twice at him.

And that was a good thing in such a universe.

Right now he was haggling – or arguing, with an irritated techpriest. Grey rockcrete surrounded them. The Crawler was parked in the middle of the square, its back facing the bay doors in preparation for unloading.

"Surely _that's_ worth a hundred crowns!" Joe protested, waving an arm at his Land Crawler. A pile of Old Tech sat at the back.

Joe was an aspiring researcher, or techno-archaeologist, depending on who you asked. He dug old things up for a living. Names mattered not, for both professions were the same thing in such a time. Much had been forgotten in the 41st millennium.

"That is scrap metal. I sense no machine spirit," droned the techpriest. "Ten crowns."

"Bugger me silly!" Joe exclaimed belligerently. "That's day-light robbery!"

"_That _is business. Ten crowns." The machine-man extended a mechandrite expectantly.

"Pish! Utter bollocks! I'm going to Jeffersons then. Those Mechanicus boys over there deal fairly." Joe pointed south at a small town in the far distance.

He turned to leave, stowing papers and ownership deeds into his oversized duster. His best friend and partner Alan wouldn't be pleased. The techpriest gave what seemed to be a shrug, and turned to leave.

_Stupid codger,_ he muttered silently. Breaking into the researching field was nigh impossible for a freelancer. He tried to console himself with that thought.

_Anna's going to be annoyed._

Joe's heart sunk to his feet. Today was their one year anniversary. Just him and his girlfriend. He had asked her out on the last day of school, right before the leaving ceremony. To his shock, and utter amazement, Anna had smiled and said yes.

Joe had originally hoped for a cushy dinner at a restaurant around the high end of the city, paid for by the crowns he would get for his latest catch. He had spent the day dredging in the city sewers with Alan, by the Emperor. Surely there must be _some_ justice in the galaxy?

Now, it seemed that their anniversary would be spent at some take-out joint. He sighed. Ten crowns would have to do. At least that would spare him the shame of Anna having to pay. Money was hard to come by.

To Joe's surprise, a taller techpriest stood before him. _Not any old techpriest,_ he realised with awe. That was a _Magos_.

"I apologise for Adept Delyre's behaviour." The Magos' voice was smooth and melodious. Joe wondered whether it was synthesised.

"Praise the Emperor, and Omnissiah. May the machine spirits ever be joyous," he said quickly, remembering his manners.

"Of course. May I discuss a propositions for you, Mr...?"

"-Brown, sir. Joe Brown, freelance techno-archaeologist." Longer names always sounded more impressive. He quickly extended a hand.

The Magos didn't take it, looking at it quizzically. Embarrassed, Joe stuck the offending hand in one of his deep pockets.

"Mr Brown. I have noted that you have visited our depot four times over this month."

Joe nodded. That was true. He needed a job.

"Yes-sir," he replied.

"I have also had the pleasure of inspecting your finds. I was taken aback."

Joe blanched.

"Look, Magos sir. They're covered in filth because I go down into the sewers to dredge them up. They're still machines, sir – and they're old!" he frantically assured the Magos.

The head of the depot raised a placating hand. "They are genuine articles. You are an honest man, unlike so many in this trade."

Joe went very still. Perhaps he might get a job...

"Of course, there were some actual pieces of scrap metal mixed in, but that is to be expected," the Magos continued. "Your finds are interesting."

"So you're not angry sir?" Joe blurted out, cutting across the Magos.

"Far from it. One of your hauls had a near-intact 25th millennium charge dilator." One of the Magos' mechandrites shot out, clutching a paper.

"Sir?" Joe gasped.

"I am offering you a job. If you accept, you will become a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus."

"S-s-sir?" he stammered again.

"You will become an Explorator Irregular in the Omnissiah's service. Techno-archaeology is your forte, is it not?" Joe's prospective boss' voice held a hint of a smile. "You will need to travel to research."

"Wow, by the Emperor...I don't know what to say."

Joe was stalling, as was the custom on Beta Carrinade. It was an ancient tradition meant to demonstrate that he was not _too_ desperate, and thus preserve his dignity. It also served to prove that he could partially dictate this agreement – by giving the impression that he wasn't that enthusiastic at first. First appearances counted for a lot.

"But do you know what to _sign_?" the Magos said, a twinkle in his artificial eyes.

Joe made up his mind. Anna would be glad, and so would Alan.

_Wait, Alan too! He's going to be mighty miffed if I'm the only one getting a job._

"I would be honoured to accept your offer," Joe said with as much grace as he could muster. "But I work with a partner. Would it be too much if he were to be employed as well?"

The Magos nodded.

"Of course not. Additional expertise would be very much appreciated."

Joe accepted the proffered paper, signing it with glee. He called out to the Crawler, where Alan was waiting.

"Alan! Over here, mate!"

Poor Alan was overweight, which he attributed to a fictional 'virus' that caused his insatiable appetite. He waddled as he walked, still wearing his knee-high waders that he had used while in the sewers with Joe. A thatch of yellow hair poked out from under his floppy cap. His amiable face broke into a smile as he noticed Joe's expression.

"Did we hit gold?" Alan asked hopefully. He chewed on the pie he had bought.

"Better than that, Alan," Joe said, grinning. "We got ourselves a job!"

Alan chewed and swallowed, nearly choking. His grey eyes bulged. Joe smiled at the sight.

"That's great!" he finally answered. "How much will we be paid?"

"Five hundred crowns a week, in addition to whatever finds you make," the Magos replied smoothly. "Travel expenses are paid for by us, as well."

"By the Emperor! Wait till my mama hears!" whooped an ecstatic Alan. "When do we start?"

"Sign this form. Report to this depot in a week after we have processed your papers," instructed the Magos.

Joe and Alan nodded happily, clapping each other on the shoulder. Five hundred crowns a week! Joe could have a dowry arranged for Anna in about a year – they could get married straight after. He grinned in triumph. Anna's parents didn't like him, but they sure would like his new income.

But for now, Joe would concentrate on the dinner with Anna that night. He pointed at the truck, the metal parts still in it.

"Surely that's a hundred crowns, boss?" he asked his new employer.

"Since we are going to work together, I will give you twenty five. No more," the Magos replied flatly.

Joe and Alan groaned. So many hours of work, wading in thigh-deep crap, behind those suffocating gas masks. All for twenty-five crowns. The pair would have to split the proceeds in half. Joe's dinner prospects were looking very grim.

"Alright, boss," Joe said resignedly. "Twenty five crowns it is."

The money was handed to Alan.

"Very good. I will see you in a week's time. Praised be the Omnissiah."

"Aye, praised be Him and the Emperor. Ave Omnissiah and Emperor," Joe called to the Magos' already retreating back.

…...

The newly minted pair of Explorator Irregulars sat in their Crawler in the middle of rush-hour, bored out of their wits. The Land Crawler was an old Standard Template Construct discovered by the famous archaeologist Arkhan Land. Joe was thrilled to join the ranks of such an illustrious profession.

_Their_ Crawler, however, was a near wreck. It still had its standard set of six wheels, but nothing else. Joe had bought it at a used automobile dealer from a very glib salesperson. Within a day the pair were already under its chassis making repairs.

"You think we'll ever be like Arkhan Land? Discover a new tank or something?" Alan chattered excitedly.

There was another _crunch_ as he downed another handful of fries. Joe wrinkled his nose at the smell, but at least it was better than the air outside. The fusion reactors in most cars were probably long overdue. The residue would collect and fry in the reactors, producing a sharp, metallic tang that was nauseating. Joe didn't know how it worked, but he planned to find out.

Joe looked up at the sky and made an annoyed face. Grey, with a hint of purple. There would be acid rain soon. The city of Carrin Prime sat in a basin, and all the pollutants simply collected and stayed in the air above.

"What, like a new tank or something?" he said to his best friend. "And can you stop eating in here? I'm right about to suffocate."

"It's the virus, man. I can't stop eating. I tried praying to the Emperor, but he was busy," complained Alan. His eyes lit up. "Maybe we'll find something like that! Something to cure that virus!"

"What, the Brown-Rivers mouth plug?" Joe snorted, inching his Crawler up a few metres.

Alan's full name was Alan Vulkan Rivers. Middle names like that were common throughout the Imperium. Using the saintly Primarchs' names as first name were frowned on, however. Calling someone 'Sanguinius' or 'Rogal' was incredibly wince-inducing. Joe was no different. His birth name was Joseff Russ Brown.

"Urgh, speaking of brown rivers..." Alan moaned.

"Don't get me started. Working in sewers is so shit," Joe growled, hunched over the steering wheel.

"Literally." Alan said, completely dead-pan. Joe shot him a glance, and they burst out laughing.

"Well if we find a tank STC, we'll name it the Brown-Rivers Maker, OK?" Alan said, after they had stopped sniggering.

"Oh yeah!" Joe laughed, high-fiving Alan. "May mankind's enemies crap their pants at the sight of our tank!"

"Die aliens! Bang bang bang!" Alan pantomimed using a gun with his fingers.

Neither of the two knew what an alien looked like. The Ministorium preached against them weekly, but Joe was clueless when it came to spotting an alien. He knew Orks were green, the Eldar had pointy ears, and the Tyranids were either purple, red or yellow. He knew nothing else.

Alan swallowed another handful of chips. His seatbelt bit into his flabby belly.

"So what's the plan for today? It's your one year anniversary with Anna, yeah?" the rotund man asked.

"Yeah," Joe said gruffly.

"Hey, cheer up Joe. How come you always get cagey when we talk about her?" Alan wouldn't let up.

"Not used to it," muttered Joe. "It's personal business."

The traffic started again. In the distance, an Arbite patrol ransacked vehicle after vehicle for prohibited substances. The pair would have to wait for another half-hour before they would even get past the Arbite checkpoint.

"Come on. I'm your mate, right? I've known you since we were kids," Alan insisted.

Joe looked at Alan. He was right: they had been best friends since they were wearing nappies together. Alan had his 'virus' even back then, Joe remembered with a smile. Not a secret existed between the two. He shrugged at his flabby friend.

'What can I say? She's great, we're great. I reckon she's going to be real happy with my new job," Joe said.

"You and Anna go well together. Chip?" Alan offered a greasy handful to Joe.

"Sure, thanks." Joe plucked the chips from Alan's fingers.

"I reckon we should move to a hab all for ourselves. Us three, won't it be great? I mean, after a few months we'll have enough money to buy a small hab," Alan suggested.

"Capital! That'd be brilliant." Joe shot Alan a glance. "Make that _four_, my big friend. You still need to meet someone."

Alan blushed, and grinned bashfully.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," he mumbled, flustered at Joe's teasing. He pulled out the pouch of crowns.

"Take fifteen, Joe. The Green Oaks tavern has great big grox steaks for two at fifteen crowns," Alan urged, thrusting out the coins.

Joe shook his head.

"Ten for you? That's not fair. Your mama's sick. _You_ take fifteen. Anna will understand."

Alan lived with his mother, who worked at the local seamstress. His father had died in a construction accident at the megalithic spaceport that had been erected several years back. It was up to Alan to be the breadwinner of his family of six.

"Fourteen-eleven, your way," Alan snapped.

"Thirteen-twelve, your way," retorted Joe.

Alan sighed in defeat. His family really _did_ need the money. Joe was lucky to still have two parents who were still able to work and take care of themselves.

"Fine..." Alan said. He brightened up. "I heard the Weary Guardsman tavern has synth-fish fillets with ale for about twelve crowns."

"Anna doesn't like fish." Joe grimaced. They passed under a looming arch adorned with the golden Aquila. The Arbites – or coppers as Joe called them, were about fifty metres away.

"How about grox fillet burger at Hershey's tavern, Joe? They're cheap but great – whoa!"

The cab bucked and shuddered. The pair were nearly thrown out of their seats.

"Blimey! What in the Emperor's name was that?" Joe exclaimed.

Alan dropped his packet of fries. His face was a mask of alarm.

"Rioters! Quick Joe, lock the doors!" he yelped.

Joe quickly slammed the locking rune on his control board. Those rioters had already surrounded their Crawler, slamming frustrated fists and clubs at its metal hide. Joe saw an enraged face stare up at him, then smash the side mirror on his side. Alan's was already broken.

"Oh man..." Alan groaned, trying to find his chips.

Riots were common in any Imperial city. One month it was excessive taxes, the next about too much Guard levying, or on the pitiful wages most people got. On and on it went. Joe reckoned that the Arbites had a calendar predicting when a riot would happen.

The mob flooded past, all heading in one direction.

The Arbites up the road.

Joe pulled a little auto pistol out of his duster, just in case. Archaeology was at times a cut-throat business, and it was wise to be prepared. They were quite safe in their little Crawler though. The cab was too high up for looters to break into, and the plating was adamantium, as per STC instructions. That could not be said for the smaller automobiles, however. Their owners were pulled out and beaten to pulp.

The Arbites stood atop the roofs of cars, weapons at ready. Even through the Crawler plating Joe heard the stentorian bark of their voices.

"On your knees, those who obey the God-Emperor's law!" they roared.

Reflexively, some among the crowd sagged. But the overall momentum was too great. Those who kneeled were trampled. Those were flagging were shoved and pushed back into the fray, or otherwise crushed. Joe groaned, ducking under his dashboard. Alan did so as well, with a cry of delight as he found his chips.

The shooting started. Joe huddled as tightly as he could in that cramped space. Any second as stray round or shotgun pellet could come through the windscreen. Arbites were sloppy blighters when it came to enforcing the law.

"This mob big, Joe?" Alan asked, his mouth full.

"Don't think so. Anna isn't going to be happy. I'll be late," Joe said.

They both ducked as a bullet crashed into the compartment. Thankfully it stuck in the back wall, and didn't ricochet. The wooden board Alan had installed for that exact purpose had worked like magic.

"Thank the Emperor, huh?" Alan commented. "And don't worry, Anna will understand. It'll be on the news."

"Thank _you_, my greedy partner. Your mama must be worried sick too."

Alan looked put out. "I just hope she doesn't worry herself sicker," he said in a small voice. "Doctor says its an exotic strain of bronchitis."

Exotic off-world diseases were the bane of all city dwellers. No one had immunity, so it was up to natural selection to decide who lived. Joe clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"She'll be alright. Her son's an Explorator now!" he consoled Alan.

The shooting was starting to peter off now. That meant either the Arbites had won, or were mashed pulp. The two risked a peek over the dashboard. The Arbites stood tall on the car roofs, surrounded by dead or dying rioters.

"Looks like we're alright, thank the Emperor," Joe said, relieved.

Five minutes later, the prisoners were removed and any large piles of bodies were piled into a van. The Arbites ignored any solitary corpses. Let the traffic take care of them.

Joe watched in disgust as car doors opened, people dragging bodies into their cars. Body snatchers, they were called. Or flesh merchants. They sold near-dead bodies to the servitor factories. Any other bodies were promptly crushed the the incoming traffic.

The Arbites had obviously decided to call it a day. The traffic began to flow again. Alan winced as their was a wet crunch under their tyres.

Apart from the acid rain, it was smooth driving from there.

…...

"Anna! Anna! I'm here!" Joe called from his Crawler's cab on 1674 Dorn's Road.

He smoothed back his hair, and patted down his new shirt he was wearing. He had left his duster at home with his parents. Alan's wishes for good luck still echoed in Joe's ears.

Still no answer. Joe's brow furrowed.

_I hope she wasn't caught in the riots,_ he worried.

He jumped out of the cab, running up to the security gate. Anna lived in a multi-storey hab crammed with people. She lived on the fourth floor with her parents. Joe smiled as he recognised the old lady behind the gate.

"Ave Imperator, Mrs Hunter," he said politely.

"And a good day to you, young sir!" the octogenarian huffed. "Here to see the lovely Miss Slater, eh young man?"

Anna Slater was Joe's girlfriend's full name. The Slater family owned a market a mile from the hab, and were generally considered quite well off. But five hundred crowns a week was a healthy wage which even Mr Slater – Anna's father – would respect.

"That's right Mrs Hunter," Joe said with a smile.

"My, you're looking handsome today. Lost that awful brown duster-coat of yours?" she chattered, completely forgetting to open the gate.

"Thank you, madam. And might I say you're looking wonderful yourself?" he said tactfully, noting the frivolous pink sweater she was wearing.

"Oh young man, save your seducing tricks for ladies your own age!" she scolded, eyes twinkling. She pressed a button, the gate opened with a beep. "Up you get, Mr Brown! Any longer and dear Anna's going to get jealous of me."

"I'd never think of that, Mrs Hunter," Joe said cheerfully, slipping past. "The Emperor's blessing on you."

"Don't stay out too late, or we'll get suspicious!" he heard the old lady screech at his back.

Joe climbed up the winding staircases, climbing over piles of clutter and nodding his head respectfully to any Aquilas he saw. The Inquisition was said to have eyes and ears everywhere...

He finally reached the Slaters' door on the fourth floor. He licked his hand and smoothed back his unruly hair. He knocked, and the door flew open.

"Who are you?" the woman in the doorway said with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, you know. The guy who's supposed to visit his pretty girl tonight," Joe said airily, playing along. "He didn't expect his gal to be abducted and replaced by someone who's looking _absolutely gorgeous_."

The woman giggled and embraced him, snuggling against his chest. He slipped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Missed you, I did. You damn criminal Joe! How long has it been?" she whispered, looking up.

Joe's breath caught as he looked at his girlfriend. Anna was a half a head shorter than he was, but when riled she seemed ten feet tall. Her blonde hair was usually tied in a ponytail or a bun – just like any sensible working woman; but today it cascaded luxuriously down around her head. Joe's eyes traced around her face. High cheekbones, a perky nose, full red lips. But the eyes... Joe wanted to drown in those emerald depths.

"You're staring again, Joe," Anna laughed, drawing back. She put her hands on her hips. "How long has it been?"

"A week," Joe mumbled, feeling four inches tall. By the Emperor! Only his mother was able to do that!

"That's right. What've you been doing?" she inquired, a dangerous light in her eyes.

"Digging." Joe mimed using a spade. "We went down to the sewers for the entire week. Didn't want to come until I got rid of the smell. We netted twenty five crowns at the Mechanicus depot!"

He would save the surprise for later.

"Digging? _Digging? _You could have been _killed_ in the sewers! Joseff Russ Brown, you are one incompetent, irresponsible, impossible man!" she yelled.

Joe loved how she said his full name. He took the verbal beating with a grin.

"Oh no you don't!" Anna screeched, pointing a finger and approaching him. "This is _not_ funny! Listen here, bucko! Go to Grumman's tavern and ask for a job! Tomorrow!"

Anna was also the only one to call him 'bucko'. Joe felt dashing whenever she said it.

"I got a job," he cut in, smiling. His girlfriend went still.

"What?" she gasped. "What did you say?"

"I have a job!" Joe repeated.

"Oh my God-Emperor!" she squealed delightfully. "What is it? Are you working at the Administratum?"

"Nope," he replied. "I'm now a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus."

Anna made a face. "Urgh! Promise me you won't stick metal bits in you! Please!"

"I won't," he said.

"So..." she started thoughtfully. "What's your position? Toilet cleaner? And how much you getting now?"

Joe drew himself up proudly. "Explorator Irregular Joe Russ Brown, at your service, ma'am. And, at the priesthood of Mars'...for five hundred crowns a week," he proclaimed.

She stared. Her mouth hung open.

Then she shouted joyfully, and hugged him tight. Joe felt as high as a kite, and a hundred feet tall.

"That's great! About time you landed a decent job! No more digging!" she congratulated him, kissing him full on the lips.

Joe was about to correct her, but a deep voice cut in.

"What's all this about?" growled Mr Slater.

For a moment, Joe quailed and considered running. After all, Anna's father had just walked in on his daughter snogging the boyfriend that he wasn't too keen on. Anna kept her arms around Joe, however, and they both faced her father.

Joe stuck out a hand. "Pleased to see you again, Mr Slater."

The man took Joe's hand with a slight grimace, trying his best to crush it. Joe squeezed back. That was the best way to relieve the pressure.

"Ave Imperator to you," Mr Slater said curtly. "What sort of job?"

"Joe here works for the Adeptus Mechanicus now," Anna put in, holding Joe tight to reassure him.

"Really?" Mr Slater raised a sceptical eyebrow. "About time you got a job."

"I did, sir," Joe replied diplomatically. "I'm an Explorator Irregular, five hundred crowns a week."

Mr Slater merely nodded, but Anna could see the faint glimmer of respect in her father's eyes.

"Really? That's thrilling news, Joe!" Mrs Slater suddenly appeared, smiling genially at the young couple. Unlike her husband, she seemed to like the new Explorator. In one of her talks with her daughter, Mrs Slater said Joe reminded her of her husband when he was young.

"Thanks, Mrs Slater," Joe thanked the older lady, glad for the extra support.

Mrs Slater simply smiled, putting an arm around her husband.

"Why don't we go to the kitchen dear? Dinner won't cook itself, and Anna can take care of herself," she suggested. Mrs Slater looked back. "Have fun, dears!"

"Not too much _fun_," Mr Slater muttered grumpily. His wife swatted him on the shoulder.

"All set?" Joe asked quietly.

She gave him a brilliant smile, and they walked out of the hab.

…...

Anna and Joe were crammed into a tiny red booth at Hershey's tavern, waiting for their meal. Customers and serving girls waltzed their complicated dances as they swerved and slid to get to their destinations. The tavern was filled with the delightful aromas of cooking food, and the air was abuzz with chatter. The vox speaker played an upbeat rendition of the 'Emperor's Conquest'.

"How was your day?" Joe yelled over the din.

She shook her head, cupping her ear. The noise was far too loud. They squeezed in together, Anna nearly sitting on top of Joe. He didn't mind that one bit.

"How was your day?" Joe asked, straight into his girlfriend's ear.

"We made our sales quota at the market! You should have seen da's face when I told him. He dropped his caf!" she laughed.

The clash of cutlery resounded. Some unfortunate waitress had dropped her dish. The boss was busy haranguing the teary serving girl.

"Blimey! How do you _not_ drop something in a place like this?" Joe commented as they watched.

"Hershey there likes tips. I left my wallet at home," Anna remarked sadly. "I bet he'd lay off her if we gave him some money."

Selfishness warred with chivalry in Joe. He nearly considered telling Anna to give her _own_ money. Then he remembered that wouldn't be too sporting, and besides, he was supposed to be paying for the entire thing.

Joe sighed quietly. He originally would have a crown to spare after the meal.

_There goes my breakfast..._ he thought regretfully, as he waved the crown at Hershey's direction.

"Mr Hershey, mate! Leave off the poor gal. This ought to pay for it, eh?" he called, flipping the coin at the tavern's proprietor.

Hershey caught it with practised ease, an avaricious grin on his face.

"Thank you sir! No harm done, right Sanja?" he said with a saccharine, avuncular tone. He patted the girl's head patronisingly, and slipped away.

Joe waved at the relieved girl. She gave him a nervous look, and scurried away.

"Close your mouth, Joe. An insect might fly in it," Anna chided. "Not everyone's brave enough to talk to strangers."

"I _at least_ expected a 'thank you'," he grumbled, miffed.

Anna frowned. "What use is altruism then? Didn't Sebastian Thor once say: 'To give is better than to receive'? You ought to rise above that."

"Don't quote scripture, Anna," Joe complained. "Besides, Thor – Emperor bless him – he was talking about a shootout with heretics."

"That's not the point, Joe. It'll make you a better person. Emperor above sees all." She lightly slapped his arm.

"See? I'm being good so when I'm a corpse I can go to heaven beside the Golden Throne."

"Joe! It's about helping others, not yourself! That's just selfish if you help someone to get something out of it!"

Joe shut up. His girlfriend was almost _too_ smart. She was certainly more intelligent than him. But that was part of her charm, for him. The grox burgers arrived with a clatter of plates. Joe handed the coins to the waitress, who was promptly whisked away.

The next few minutes were filled with the sound of chewing. Anna shifted a little, and a book dropped out of her coat. Joe quickly wiped his oily fingers on a napkin before picking it up.

"What's this?" he asked Anna, reading the cover.

To Travel Everywhen, by Anon. Below it was the Ministorum rating: N. Non-seditious material, Joe remembered with relief. Anna read a lot of books – fictional books; too much for Joe's liking in fact. Imperial authorities were leery of fictional tales at the best of times.

"Give that back!" Anna demanded, embarrassed. Her love of books was an intensely private thing.

"Nuh-uh. What is it?" Joe teased, holding the book away from her. She tried clambering atop of him. Joe was enjoying the feeling.

"Give it back and I'll tell you," she snapped, giving up. Her arms were crossed.

"What is it? What is it? What is it?" Joe repeated childishly. He tried tickling her. She slapped away his arms grumpily.

"I'll leave," she warned. She made to leave the booth.

"Alright, alright! Keep your knickers on, lady!" Joe relented. Anna rolled her eyes.

"Keep _my_ knickers on? That's _my_ property, you immature little boy!" she snarled, snatching the book back.

Joe looked shrunken. "Sorry," he barely mumbled, suitably chastened.

Anna put an arm around him to say all was forgiven.

"So...what is it about?" the Explorator asked tentatively.

"Well, it's about a man who goes back in time. He meets his parents when they were young – and well, I'm up to the part where his mama is probably falling in love him," she said quietly.

From what Joe had gathered, Anna had been teased about her bookish ways as a child, a time when children would normally be playing Space Marines and Sisters of Battle. Kids could be real brats if they wanted to be.

"That sounds...interesting," Joe said. He decided to humour her. "Maybe one day I'll find an STC for a time machine."

"Knew you weren't interested," Anna muttered irritably. "But if you ever do time travel, you're not allowed to meet your other self."

Joe was intrigued now. What he was talking about was really techno-heresy, but he wasn't working for the Adeptus Mechanicus just _yet_. Their meals lay forgotten. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in every time travel book I've read, reality is destroyed if a character meets their other self," she said firmly. "And don't you dare laugh!"

"That's whacked. Groovy. Can I read some of those books? How many you got, Anna?"

"Quite a few." She gave him a disbelieving look. "You really want to read them?"

"Yes!" he blurted out. He yelped as she hugged him tightly.

"I'd _love_ to give you some," she whispered coyly, pecking his cheek.

Joe coughed. He wasn't sure what to do, but it sure felt good.

Anna leaned back, smiling. "Don't get any ideas, bucko," she warned jokingly, tweaking his nose.

Joe simply blushed, and ducked his head.

There was a gunshot.

Their heads whipped around. The tavern froze. Anna clutched Joe's arm.

"Tell me those riots aren't still happening..." Joe groaned.

"They were pretty widespread," Anna said fearfully. "Da's guards kept most rioters away from the market."

The tavern sat in deathly silence. Slowly, a dreadful clamour could be heard.

It was entire mob shouting.

"We have to get out of here," Joe hissed, standing up.

Unfortunately, the rest of the tavern had the same idea, just as the door was blasted in. The crowded restaurant erupted in chaos as rioters flooded in and patrons and staff milled about. Joe was shoved back into the booth by a fleeing customer.

"Emperor damn them! That hurt!" Joe cried.

"What do we do?" Anna pleaded.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Joe yelled, frantic.

Screams and shouts could be heard as the mob piled into the hapless people near the front. Joe heard the meaty thumps and the ringing _clangs_ of metal bars against flesh. A firearm was discharged. Joe knew that they had to get out, _right away_.

"Come on!" he grabbed Anna's arm and dragged her through the press. Elbows and fists jabbed at him. He took them, cursing, holding on to Anna for dear life.

"God-Emperor, spare us!"

A woman's shriek rang from the back door of the tavern. It was abruptly cut off with a wet gurgle. Dark shapes loomed from the shadows outside. The mob had gotten around the back!

"Rush them!" a man's voice rose above the din. "I'm PDF, I know how to do this!"

Just like a herd of grox, the panicked crowd rushed to obey. They threw themselves the figures in the doorway, tackling and grappling. Joe and Anna were swept up the press, drawn ever closer to the melee.

"Don't fight, run!" Joe yelled at Anna.

He swore. His auto pistol was still in his duster pocket, back at home.

In they went, into a world of flailing fists and hard bone. An elbow slammed into Joe's nose, breaking it. He sagged from the pain. Anna screamed.

_Anna!_

He whirled around. A thickset man was grabbing at her, pawing at her chest. With a desperate strength he did not know, Joe slugged the man with all his might. Anna's attacker slumped to the ground.

"Let's go! Please!" Anna babbled tearfully.

They forced their way through the battle, holding each other tight. They nearly were out of it.

Until someone brought an auto-rifle.

Bullets hammered into the crowd, spraying rioters and patrons indiscriminately. Anna and Joe ran.

Suddenly, Anna jerked, and went limp. She tumbled to the ground.

"Anna!' Joe screamed. "Anna, wake up babe! Anna!"

Her sightless eyes stared up at him, the way only the dead could achieve. Joe shook her, watching as her fiery emeralds faded and clouded. He could feel tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Please, please, please," he begged. "Don't. Don't..."

But Anna would not hear. Her soul had departed for the Golden Throne, never to return.

Joe collapsed on the cold, wet pavement next to Anna's body, wishing to die. His life, his joy, was gone.

But fate had a different purpose for him.

"On your feet civilian." A boot prodded him. The pitiless black armour of an Arbiter loomed over him. The fighting had stopped.

Joe clutched at Anna, unwilling to move.

"Kill me," he choked out, voice ragged. "Kill me."

The dark eye slit considered him for a second.

"Get up and live for the Emperor," the Arbiter said flatly.

"Kill me! Kill me, damn you! I DON'T WANT TO LIVE!" Joe yelled.

"Get up, and make your life be worth something," the Arbiter instructed patiently. The man turned on his heel and walked away. Joe was left on the ground.

Anna seemed to be looking at him. Her lifeless eyes gazed through him accusingly.

_Get up and make your life worth something,_ he heard her voice say.

Shakily, he got to his feet, eyes hollow. He gently lifted Anna's body, closing her eyes. He sobbed uncontrollably.

As he stumbled through the streets of a sullen Carrin Prime, something slipped out of Anna's pocket and onto the ground. It landed with a thud.

To Travel Everywhen.

Joe breathed hitched. The tears slowed.

That was it.

He knew how to save Anna.

Time travel.

**There won't be too much gore in this fic, just warning you guys. But I hope you will like it anyway. Till next time.**


End file.
